Katie's Way (10 page)

Lisa glanced around. “Well, the decor is just right . . . so cozy and colorful. What you need is something to bring more people into the store. For instance, what if you had a quilting class, or if you started a quilting group that met here? I'll bet you'd find lots of people who were interested in that. And once they came, they'd want to support you.”

“You mean, Englisch people?” Katie turned the idea over in her mind.

“Sure thing. It would be a big attraction to learn quilting from an Amish person. Or, even if a person were an experienced quilter, it would be nice just to be in a group that met and quilted together. People enjoy the comradeship, and there isn't a quilting group here in town.”

The dozens of quilting parties Katie had attended helped her visualize that clearly. What Lisa said was true—the joy of a quilting party wasn't just the finished product. It was the pleasure of working together, with tongues flying as fast as the sewing needles.

“You really think people would come to something like that?”

“I really do.” Lisa's eyes sparkled. “Tell you what—let me make up a flyer for you. I'll give them out in my shop, you can give them out in yours, and maybe Paula Schatz would do that at the bakery. I bet you'd have a group in no time.”

Lisa was going almost too fast for Katie, but she found her mind racing. She couldn't just sit around and hope she got more customers. She had to make it happen.

“If I'm rushing you . . .” Lisa began.

“No, you're not. You're waking me up.” A wave of energy swept through her. “Let's do it.”

“You're on,” Lisa said. “I'll be the first one to sign up. And what about the other idea? Will you join me in trying to promote Pleasant Valley's shops?”

Caution put a hand on Katie's enthusiasm. “Let me speak to Bishop Mose about it, ja? If he doesn't object, then I will help you if I can.”

“It's a deal,” Lisa said promptly. “Now, let's go ahead and pick the day and time for the first quilting meeting, and I'll run off some flyers.”

Katie pulled a calendar from under the counter, feeling all the excitement she'd had that first day bubble within her. She had friends and allies here now, and with their help, in a year's time she would be signing the shop lease on her own.

He
hadn't been acting unreasonably. Caleb had been telling himself that since the awkward encounter with Katie at the singing Sunday night. The problem was that after three days of saying so, he still didn't quite believe it. He'd interfered in his neighbor's business. Maybe his motives had been good, but that didn't excuse him.

He wiped down the rocking chair with a soft cloth. Another coat of wax, and the chair would be ready to put on display. He glanced around the front room of the shop, vaguely dissatisfied. In comparison to the quilt shop next door, his own place looked kind of bare, especially on a day like today, when rain dripped down from a gray sky. The only spot of color or softness was his mother's baby quilt, hung over his rack in the archway between the shops.

He tossed the cloth on the counter. Not only was Katie causing him worry over his niece—now she had him questioning his running of the shop.

That was foolish, for sure. He had plenty more experience in business than Katie Miller did. He didn't need to learn a thing from her.

His shop door creaked in a welcome distraction, and he had a quick smile for his cousin William Brand.

“William. I hoped you were a customer on such a wet day, but it's gut to see you anyway.”

William snatched off his hat, showing his thick thatch of light hair, damp at the neck where the hat didn't protect it from the rain.

“S-s-sorry.” William's face creased in a grin. His stammer kept him from talking easily to others, girls in particular, but around family he didn't let it bother him. “Was ist letz, Caleb? Isn't business gut these days?”

Caleb shrugged. “You know how it is. Folks seem to be watching their money tighter anymore. But I'm doing all right. What brings you into town?”

“I s-s-stopped at the house, b-but you'd left.” He laid his hat on the counter and leaned across it to get a better look at the rocker. “Th-th-that's turned out fine, it has.”

“Ja.” Caleb ran his hand along the curved back, feeling the grain like a living thing under his palm. Pride was a sin, but he couldn't help knowing when a piece turned out even better than he'd expected. “The grain came up wonderful gut on this one.”

William came around the counter to bend over the chair for a closer look. Even though he spent most of his time working his brother's farm, William had a bent for carpentry. It was a shame he had so little chance to put that gift to use.

William ran his fingers along the arm of the chair much as Caleb had done, his touch gentle. Then he straightened. “Ach, I am near f-forgetting why I came. You w-wanted some help carrying a piece down from upstairs, ain't so?”

“Ja, denke.” Caleb had nearly forgotten mentioning that after worship. “I guess with the rain, Isaac didn't need to keep you close today, ja?”

William's oldest brother, Isaac, was a worthy man, but he had a tight rein on anybody who depended on him. Too tight, Caleb sometimes thought.

“Right.” William started toward the stairs, and Caleb followed. “S-s-seems like there's not as much for me to do anyway, what with Isaac's boys getting b-big enough to be a real help. And now that Rachel and Gideon are married, she d-doesn't need me so much.”

That sounded a little . . . well, lonely maybe. Caleb felt sure William didn't begrudge Rachel her happiness in marrying Gideon more than a year after his brother had died, but William no doubt still thought her a member of his family, since she'd been his sister-in-law for so long, and he was onkel to her three kinder.

They reached the top of the stairs, which led into the large, loftlike area where Caleb had his workshop. The space that had been turned into a small apartment on Katie's side of the building had been left open here, and it suited him perfectly, with plenty of room for two workbenches, storage, shelves, and racks for his tools. On a sunny day the light poured through windows at the front and side, but today it seemed a bit gloomy.

“This cabinet is what I want to take down.” He indicated the large piece that an Englisch owner would probably use to hold a television. Well, it wasn't his business what someone bought it for.

“Nice.” As always, William had an appreciation for the quality of the piece. He glanced around. “You've g-got some quilt r-racks to finish, ja?”

“Ja, I started a few of them. They sell pretty well, and they don't take long to make.”

“W-w-with the quilt s-shop next door, you'll maybe sell more.” William jerked his head toward the adjoining wall. “Getting along all right?”

That depended on who you asked, Caleb supposed, but all he could do was nod.

“Rachel l-likes K-K-Katie Miller,” William volunteered, putting his hands on one end of the cabinet. “I saw the s-sister with your Becky at church.”

“Ja.” That was too short a response. Caleb didn't want William thinking there was a problem. “The two girls have got to be friends.” He picked up the other end of the cabinet. “I'll go backward.”

William lifted, and they edged together toward the stairs. The cabinet was a big piece, too much for one man to move, especially since Caleb didn't want to go knocking it against the wall on the way down.

He stepped back carefully, his chest against the side of the piece. “Take it slow.”

“I w-won't make you t-tumble.” William started down. In a couple of minutes, with William's muscle added to his, they got the piece down without a nick.

Caleb set it down at the foot of the stairs, catching his breath for a moment.

“Wh-where t-to?” William said.

Caleb nodded to the space between the windows on the outside wall, and they picked it up again, edging it across the floor to set it carefully in place. “Gut.” He patted the cabinet. “Denke, William.”

“Glad to. Anything else I c-can help with?” William looked . . . well, hopeful. Maybe he was feeling at loose ends, not quite so needed anymore.

If so, Isaac ought to be setting the boy up in some job or other, not keep him hanging around to help out. And William wasn't really a boy anymore—he was only a couple years younger than Caleb.

“Would you want to work on those quilt racks I started?” Caleb asked the question with a bit of hesitation, not sure how William would react. Or Isaac, for that matter.

But William's grin was answer enough. “Ja, I w-would like that.”

“Gut, gut.” Caleb clapped his shoulder. “Let's go, then.”

They'd headed for the stairs when William stopped. “Ach, I near f-forgot. Your mamm says to r-r-remember her f-fabric.”

For an instant Caleb's mind was blank, and then he realized that he was supposed to pick up from Katie something Mamm needed for her quilt. “Right. She told me last night, and I was forgetting already. Go ahead up, and I'll be along in a couple of minutes.”

If it had been anyone else who needed something, he might have made some excuse to avoid talking to Katie. But he couldn't do that to Mamm. She'd see through it anyway, and he'd have to explain.

So he'd poke his head into Katie's shop and get this errand over with quick. No need for more than business between them.

As soon as he stepped through the archway, he realized Katie was taking care of a customer ... an Englisch woman he didn't know. He would retreat, but Katie had seen him, so he pottered along the shelves as she finished.

Katie had a nice, easy way with the Englisch customer. He'd noticed that before . . . envied it a little, if truth be known. He got near as tongue-tied as William when a strange Englisch woman ventured into his shop.

Not that he was all that talkative with the Amish, either. Maybe that was why he liked having William around when he needed help. No need to chatter with William or pretend interest he didn't feel.

Not that Katie was putting on anything. Her manner to the woman was as open and friendly as it was with everyone else. That warmth of hers just seemed to be something she was born with, as far as he could tell.

The woman left, finally, calling good-bye over her shoulder as if to an old friend. Katie turned to him, and he wasn't imagining how her face changed, how it became wary. Obviously it wasn't quite everyone who got her warm side.

“Can I help you with something, Caleb?” Her tone was brisk.

He pulled the square of fabric Mamm had given him from his pocket. “My mother wants another three yards of this.” He handed the fabric over, trying to avoid his fingers brushing hers. “Something about changing the pattern a bit. She said you'd understand.”

Katie's expression eased as she stroked the material. “Ja, I do. She's decided to make this color more dominant. I like the idea. Your mamm has a wonderful gut eye for design.”

She walked quickly down a row of fabric bolts, pulled one out, and carried it to the counter. She began unrolling the material, measuring it with deft hands against a yardstick fastened to the countertop.

“She makes beautiful quilts, that's for sure,” he said. “And it's wonderful gut to see her take an interest in it again.”

“I'm glad.” Katie's tone went warm on the words. “How is she doing?”

He shrugged, not sure how he'd gotten into talking to Katie about Mamm. “We're always trying to get her out of the house and visiting with people, but she still says no more often than ja.”

Katie frowned, apparently in concentration, as she cut the piece. She folded it, hands smoothing the fabric as she did. “I wonder . . .”

He lifted his eyebrows. “What?”

As if making a decision, she pulled a sheet of paper from under the counter and showed it to him. He frowned, reading the piece. It was a flyer advertising a quilting group.

“I'm starting a group to meet here at the shop once a week to quilt together,” Katie said. “Everyone from beginners to experienced quilters is most wilkom. I wonder if maybe your mamm would like that. We would love to have such an accomplished quilter join us. Do you think she might?”

He doubted it, but he hated to say so to Katie, who was being kinder than he probably deserved. “I'll show it to her. Denke, Katie. That is ser gut of you.”

She smiled, putting the paper in a bag with the material. “Your mamm would be doing me a favor if she came.”

“I will tell her that.” He hesitated. He could, maybe should, walk away now, his errand complete. But there was something else that needed to be said. “Katie, about your sister . . .”